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The ship groaned, rocking underfoot in such a manner as to send Renfield staggering into the wall to keep from toppling over altogether. He clutched his candle with both hands, stricken suddenly by the overwhelming fear of what could happen if he were to drop it and set the ship aflame.
He’d never sailed before. Not like this, anyway. The Atlantic crossing was a beast all its own, and it wasn’t long into the journey before Renfield found his nerves frayed and his resolve diminished.
But oh, to set foot upon an entirely new continent! How thrilling. Even during his time as a soldier, Renfield had never been outside of Europe. To his knowledge, his master, in all his long life, had never traveled to the New World either. Even though he had been alive back in the days of the colonies. Perhaps even before, though Renfield didn’t think it prudent to ask. Not now, anyway. Not with how the journey was going thus far.
Their travels had been plagued by terrible storms. As if the heavens themselves were furious with their crossing and sought to sink them into the fathomless depths before they could spread their disease into a new land.
Hushed voices could be heard up ahead. The slurring, wavering tone of men deep in their cups and plagued by fear. They spoke just loud enough to be heard above the din of waves crashing against the hull, and they spoke of monsters.
Renfield stopped before his shadow could be seen passing in front of the door, smothering the light of his flame before it could give him away.
“Six men gone, and a woman. Her child, as well.” A solemn voice spoke, hardly more than a murmur. As if he sensed they may not be alone in their conversation.
“A child?” An incredulous voice exclaimed, quickly cowed by a sharp reminder from his companion to keep his voice down. He continued, much quieter than before. “A child? What business would such a beast have with a mother and her baby? What manner of Godless creature would seek out such prey?”
Renfield swallowed hard. He hadn’t meant for the child to see. Hadn’t known she was there when he came to take her mother. But oh, how delighted his master had been. A shudder of disgust wracked Renfield’s body and he had to fight not to flee from the words of accusation being spoken on the other side of the door.
“Whatever it is, it’s making the crew nervous. Gone without a trace, and no way to tell what took them. The men think it’s mermaids. But I don’t believe in fairytales.” The clinking of a bottle as it was emptied into a tin cup. The man drank, and his seat creaked in protest as he sat back in it.
Renfield furrowed his brow, thrown for a moment. They… they thought Dracula was a mermaid?
“Mermaids are real!” The other man protested, voice rising once again and quieting after yet another reminder. “I’ve not seen them myself, but I’ve heard them. The sirens. They sing to men and tempt them to cast themselves into the sea.”
“Bullshit, you’ve not heard any damn sirens.” He scoffed, snorting into his drink as he drained it.
“It’s true!”
“Then how are you here, speaking to me now? If you’d heard them, wouldn’t you be as dead as the others?”
There was a pause, as if the man had to think hard on his answer before he could reply. “Didn’t work on me, that’s all. Maybe it only works on the weak-willed.”
“Suppose it was sirens, how do you explain that missing lady and her daughter?”
“Oh, that wasn’t sirens. I bet someone killed them. What about that odd fellow down in steerage? The one who brought that big old crate on with him and insisted it be brought into his room. Something’s off with that one.”
Renfield’s blood ran cold, and he slipped a hand into his pocket, feeling for the bottle and rag he kept on him.
The hiss of a match being struck and the crackle of a pipe being lit. “Oh, I know who you mean. If it was mermaids, you’d hope it was that one they’d take next. You really think someone killed ‘em?” A puff, the faint scent of tobacco smoke wafted out from under the door.
“I think a mother doesn’t just let her child walk off the side of a ship is what I think.”
He’d heard enough. Renfield withdrew the small case he kept on hand, opening it to reveal the wriggling assortment of roaches he’d collected from the dark, dingy corners of the ship. Its body crunched between his teeth, and suddenly he found he could see clear as day in the pitch-dark underbelly of the ship.
He threw open the door, allowing it to crash back against the wall. If the sound woke anyone, it would already be too late.
The men jumped to their feet; pipe abandoned on the ground. It spilled ash across the floorboards, embers glowing with the same brilliance the men found when they met Renfield’s gaze.
“You!” One of the men, the one who believed in mermaids, pointed at him in accusation.
Renfield smiled thinly, shaking out his handkerchief and tipping the contents of a small brown bottle onto the fabric. “Yes, me.” He agreed grimly. “Terribly sorry, gentleman, but my master bade that I retrieve his dinner. You understand.”